Being Brave
by QueenAzule
Summary: Post-Sexy. Santana storms out of Mckinley and runs away. One-shot. Brittana. Talk of Bartie. Santana POV.


A/N: This is post-Sexy- basically, Santana retreats into herself and turns really bitchy again… it's up to Brittany to help her. Also, guys, I'm sorry about Crown- I just wasn't feeling it. I'm redrafting it.

**S S S S S S S SS S S S S S**

Santana stormed down the halls, tears clouding her eyes so she couldn't see. "MOVE!" she screamed, bursting through a group of giggling cheerios out the front doors of the school. Brittany's face flashed through her mind over and over, the way she'd talked about Artie. Artie! As if Artie had ever loved her the way Santana did. As if Artie was even _worth _Brittany. _It's not about who you're attracted to, it's about who you're in love with, _she thought bitterly, getting into her car and slamming the door, starting the ignition and pumping on the gas in one swift move. She peeled out of the school parking lot, barely able to see where she was going.

Angrily Santana dashed her tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand. Why was she making these ridiculous noises? Why did it feel as though her whole heart was shattered into irreparable pieces? Santana veered through the small suburban streets at 70 mph. She careened around corners. Her car protested, making a whining noise when she stamped on the brakes. "Good!" Santana screamed viciously out the windshield. She wanted something else to feel as stressed as her heart.

Her keys slammed against the radio button. The last song she was playing came on abruptly as she sat at the stop sign.

"_-climb a mountain and turn around,_

_And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills-"_

Santana stabbed the power button, breaking her nail with the force of her anger. _Landslide. _Yeah, that about summed it up.

She bent over the steering wheel, stopped dead in the middle of the road, letting her hair fall into her face as she broke down. Tears dripped down into her lap, making her jeans cling uncomfortably. God, Brittany. Brittany. The only person who could ever do this to her. The last time she'd cried like this, it had been that day Rachel screamed at her. And that had only been because- Christ, Santana's mother worked on a pole, but it didn't mean she didn't have morals, it didn't mean that she was any less of a person. And yeah, people did suck, like she'd said to Brittany. But Brittany- she'd never thought Brittany would choose- him.

Santana wrenched the wheel to the right. She stepped on the gas, heading for the interstate. She was done crying now. She was done being frustrated. Now, she was just getting out of here.

**S S S S S S S S S S S**

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine," Santana said into the pay phone, leaning against the wall. "No, it wasn't you- I just, I need to get away. Just for a few days."

"Santana, where did you even go?" her mother asked. She sounded worried. It was probably just before she started work. Santana shrugged, then realized nobody could see her.

"I'm in New York, Mom. I'm fine, okay? I had money on me. I have enough for a few more days. Just please-" Her voice cracked, and she leaned her forehead against the cool glass. Her mother exhaled over the line.

"You have the pepper spray I gave you?"

"Always. It's down my bra."

"Good girl. And you have money?"

"Yes!"

"And condoms?"

Santana froze. Like she'd even need condoms. The only person she'd even-

"Yeah, mom, I have condoms, okay?"

There was a long pause.

"Mom, my time's about to run out."

There was a long sigh, and then the resigned voice of Santana's mother floated through the line. "Honey, I sure trust you. You better have your ass back here by Monday. And, baby-"

Santana felt tears start to stream down her face again, and she sniffled a little.

"Take care of yourself, okay? Heal a little, and come back to me. I wanna take care of you, doll. I really do."

Santana nodded again. "I know. I- I love you, Mom."

Her mother's voice was rough. "I love you too. Now go see some sights, and charge your cell."

Santana replaced the receiver. Her shoulders shook under the thin coat she'd been wearing when she'd walked out of Mckinley High. She wiped her tears away with her sleeve and stepped out of the phone booth, looking at Times Square. The lights sickened her, but the noise drew her. It was a thousand Mckinley Highs put together, it was twice the roar at Sectionals. It was sound to lose yourself in. And for once, maybe- she wouldn't feel wrong, or stupid, or stick out in this crowd.

Santana started forward and melted into Times Square. People jostled her, and normally she'd have snapped at them, but that face was too close in her mind. She couldn't be anything but broken right now. Because for once, she'd meant every single word she'd said. And she remembered it all so clearly- god, she'd said "I love you." The words that had haunted her for days, weeks- lingering at the back of her mind. Making it impossible for her to ever sleep without seeing that face.

The thing was, Santana decided as she climbed up the red steps above the "TKTS" booth, the thing that really made her steam, was that she had finally laid it all on the line. If Brittany wanted her, she would have done it. She would have endured the whispers, because it wouldn't have mattered. She'd have had her. But she- she wouldn't give up Artie. A boy who thought that singing was love. A boy who thought that freaking coddling Brittany was the same as affection.

Santana knew better. Santana knew that Brittany was smart, under the surface. She could work things out, but she got confused easily. It was one of the things that Santana loved most about the blonde. The way she looked around like she'd forgotten she was on Earth in the mornings at sleepovers. The way she sometimes stumbled when she walked. No, Brittany had never needed coddling. She had needed appreciation, and safety, and to know she wasn't wrong.

The fabric of her jeans, scratchy and just-bought, rubbed uncomfortably on her thighs as she sank to her knees, sitting on a step. She rested her forehead on her knees, oblivious to the crowd around her, the feet that tramped past her as if she was nothing but a traffic cone. Santana was glad. She wanted to be just another face. Because she was exhausted. In a city full of the broken and the hopeful, she fit in perfectly, for once.

It felt good.

**S S S S S SS S S S S S S **

Three days she spent in New York, walking around and seeing the sights alone and freezing in a purple jacket. Three days, two outfits, one crappy hotel room. She wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world except Brittany. It was the most isolating and healing experience of Santana's life. The drive home was silent except for the whir of the wheels on the road and the clinking of her keys. She left the window open, letting the cold in. It whipped her hair into a frenzy, but honestly, Santana was past the point of caring about much of anything.

When she reached her house, it was just starting to dim out. Her mother was sitting out on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and watching the street anxiously. Santana got out of the car slowly, double-checking that everything was in place. Her bag was where she'd thrown it into the backseat. The clothes she'd bought in New York she picked up, slinging them over her arm. Her phone she tucked in her pocket. The keys she clenched so tight in her hand that it hurt. The slam of her car door was intensely loud in the silence of her neighborhood.

Her mother didn't cry- just flicked her ashes, stubbed out her cigarette, and walked inside with Santana. She let the girl go up to her room and put her stuff down. She stood in the doorway as she watched Santana resign herself to Lima once again, like she had so many times. Then Santana's mother walked forward and wrapped her arms around her baby girl.

Santana hugged her mother for the first time in probably two years, feeling the stress in her back, leaning her head into her soft shoulder, breathing her smell. A sense of comfort washed over her.

"You know you don't always have to be brave," her mother murmured. Santana smiled, thinking of the picture of that boy in Kurt's locker. She felt the broken pieces of her heart limping in her chest, keeping her alive. She took a long, shuddering drag of air.

"I know," she whispered. It didn't mean she wouldn't be brave.

Because being brave was what Brittany deserved. Moreover, being brave was what Santana deserved.

It would take time, but Santana would find a way.

**S S S S S S S SS S S S S S S**

I'm leaving this as a oneshot because I might do a future!fic later… Reviews? As always, love to my darling readers.


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